EXCERPT
The Greater Darkness
(A Reflections Novel)
by Eldon
Murphy
Description
Something powerful is stirring in the darkness. Something so ancient that
even creatures who've been alive for hundreds of years have long since
discounted this new threat as nothing more than myth.
Geoffrey knows even less than most about this rising menace. His memories
were all violently ripped away from him, leaving nothing of his past but dreams
containing haunting glimpses of a beautiful girl.
A chance encounter offers up a possible link to his past, but forces
beyond his control are threatening to push him into the middle of a conflict
that could sweep away everything, and everyone he’s been fighting so hard to
protect.
This time, saving the girl may very well cost Geoffrey his soul.
Excerpt
Chapter 1
Geoffrey's legs were
starting to cramp up from remaining motionless for so long. It was to the point
now where the pain exceeded even the hunger that had been present for as long
as he could remember. Still, he was reluctant to move. His memories were no
longer able to guide him, so feelings had taken on greater importance.
Remaining motionless felt important.
Finally the agony
became too much, and Geoffrey steadied himself on the handrail as he slowly
shifted positions. This fire escape, like most in the poor sections of the
city, had long since started to rust in the humid New York summers. Some
landlord, no doubt looking to cut costs, had ordered the metal painted over
without first having it scoured clean. Of course the paint had continued to
flake off over the years, requiring yet more coats. The latest coat had been
applied fairly recently, resulting in something that felt smooth, despite an
underlying texture of decay.
Geoffrey suppressed
a shiver as he stroked the pitted metal and whispered silently to himself.
"So you woke up in a bare room with no memories of your past. A knowledge
of how to remain undetected while watching someone doesn't have to mean that
you're a cold-blooded assassin. Just because Imastious says something is so,
doesn't necessarily mean it's the truth."
It was a
conversation he'd had with himself several times, but he couldn't escape the
feeling that there was some truth to the other man's cold, casual allegations.
If so, then his amnesia was nothing more than a thin finish that hid a corroded
soul.
The longer Geoffrey
sat pondering in the darkness, the more the night took on an oppressive, heavy
feeling. Most of the streetlights in this section of town had long since
stopped working, leaving only the harsh light of neon signs in the storefront
shops below to wage a losing war against the darkness.
The feeling that he
was somehow exposed, that someone was watching him as intently as he was
watching the dark window before him, had grown so powerful that Geoffrey was
having difficulty not looking over his shoulder. Finally a faint sound from the
other side of the glass signaled the return of the apartment's tenant.
Sliding carefully
back out of sight, Geoffrey breathed a sigh of relief as the barely-visible
front door swung open and the lights came on.
The twenty-something
black man who swung the door shut behind him matched the picture that Imastious
had given Geoffrey. Every detail was perfect, right down to the heavy gold
jewelry and eyes that seemed to say that he no longer blinked at doing the
kinds of things that would give most people nightmares.
A wave of something
that felt like anticipation crept through Geoffrey, flushing his body with
strength at the same time that it sickened him. The mind had forgotten, but
apparently the body still remembered what to do in these types of
circumstances.
Geoffrey's abrupt
decision not to act, to put off the execution for at least a few more hours,
calmed his mind but not his body. He was shaking as he quietly climbed down to
the bottom of the fire escape, dropped to the ground and disappeared into the
night.
Geoffrey covered
several blocks in a slow walk before he realized why he kept looking reflexively
over his shoulder. Apparently even the habit of looking for someone following
him had become instinctive to whoever or whatever he had been. Suddenly the
meandering routes he had picked over the last few days made more sense too.
What better way could there be to tell whether or not someone was tailing you
than to turn a corner and just see who followed?
Carefully steering
clear of a large pile of garbage that left his nose burning, Geoffrey ended up
a few inches from what had to be one of the cleaner windows in that part of the
city. Pausing before the storefront, Geoffrey examined the reflection peering
back at him through the protective bars.
The dark-haired
young man who stared back was someone he would have called unremarkable other
than the fact that he was hard-pressed to put an age to himself. It was a
youthful face, but one that could have belonged to a late teen or even someone
in their late twenties.
A casual perusal of
the billboards and posters that seemed to populate every visually prominent
piece of real estate in the city showed a male ideal that fluctuated between
massively over-muscled and nearly effeminate. Given that, there was a chance
that the high cheekbones and slender frame in the window's reflection would be
considered handsome. The real question, though, was what exactly the troubled
depths of his eyes concealed.
The seemingly
ever-present hunger pulled Geoffrey's thoughts back to more mundane things.
Most of the restaurants had closed hours ago. There was a chance one of the small
corner stores would still be open, but he didn't hold out much hope. Even if he
found someplace to buy food, so far eating hadn't actually done anything to
calm the hunger.
Concentrating as he
was on finding something to eat, Geoffrey almost ignored the faint sounds
coming from the alley he was passing. Something tugged him towards the noise
though, so he turned and crept into the near darkness of the alley. Geoffrey's
heart sped up when he got far enough around the large dumpster to see two
sloppily-dressed teens who had cornered a trembling, middle-aged Latina against
a chain-link fence. Geoffrey was still trying to decide what to do next when
one of the boys backhanded the woman, knocking her to the ground.
The other teen
reached down and opened up the woman's purse only to start swearing as he found
it nearly empty. Before either boy could contemplate further action, Geoffrey
made up his mind and ghosted between them and their victim.
"Leave
her." The words came out with such a cold indifference that a part of
Geoffrey was startled, but the numbness actually matched perfectly with how he
felt.
The two teenagers
seemed startled by the inhuman feel to his voice. They stood motionless for
several seconds and then sprang into action, as Geoffrey had somehow known they
would.
The attacker behind
Geoffrey lashed out with a wild-looking punch that, for all of its inelegance,
still probably would have hurt whoever happened to be on the receiving end.
Only it never landed. Geoffrey's body seemed almost to react on its own,
throwing his right leg back and up, driving his heel into the teen's ribs with
a grating crunch that flung the mugger backwards.
The second teenager
threw a slightly more controlled punch a split second before his friend crashed
into the building's brick wall. Again Geoffrey reacted without thinking,
reaching up with his left hand to pluck the approaching fist out of the air.
A sharp tug on the
captured wrist pulled the second youth off balance and brought him stumbling
towards Geoffrey. Before the attacker could recover, Geoffrey's right hand
darted out and clamped over the teen's throat, picking him up and slamming him
into the wall opposite his fallen friend.
The force of the
blow was sufficient to cause the boy's head to rebound off of the wall with a
hollow thud. For a split second Geoffrey worried that he'd killed the would-be
mugger, but the steady pulse surging through the carotid artery, just beneath
his right index finger, said otherwise.
Geoffrey meant to
turn and check on the woman. Instead he found himself unable to look away from
the still figure pinned against the wall. The boy hung limply, motionless save
for the rise and fall of his chest, and the almost imperceptible movement of
the blood just beneath Geoffrey's finger.
Geoffrey was pretty
sure he couldn't actually see the boy's pulse, but for all that it had to be
nothing more than his imagination, he couldn't seem to see anything but that
now-erratic motion.
The hunger felt like
it was taking on a life of its own, causing Geoffrey's hand to tighten ever so
slightly. The teen's pulse seemed to become more powerful as the pressure
increased. The hunger seemed to demand more, to demand that Geoffrey clamp down
harder. He squeezed harder and harder until suddenly he realized he had cut off
the supply of blood to the kid's brain.
The pulse beneath
Geoffrey's finger hammered away wildly as the heavily beating heart tried to
force blood past his hand and up to the oxygen-starved brain. Geoffrey felt his
trembling upper lip curl away from his teeth as he was nearly overcome by the
desire to sink his canines into the teen's throat.
Nausea suddenly
crashed through Geoffrey's body, leaving him feeling cold and filthy as he
realized what he had wanted to do. What kind of person would do something so
savage?
Shaking slightly,
Geoffrey slowly lowered the teen until the unconscious body was resting
motionless on the concrete.
Thoughts of running,
of fleeing the scene, suddenly seemed distant as the physical effects of
alternate waves of desire and disgust fully caught up with Geoffrey, and he
collapsed to the ground. Even worse, the hunger, only slightly muted by
Geoffrey's revulsion, had acquired a new eagerness.
The sudden urge to
empty his stomach was too much. Shaking as badly as he was, he barely managed
to lean over far enough to avoid soiling himself as heaves racked his body.
Geoffrey couldn't
have said how long he sat there, all but kneeling in a pool of his own vomit,
but a tentative touch on his shoulder pulled him back to the present.
Reflexes Geoffrey
didn't remember training once again took over, causing him to pull the woman's
hand downwards as his right hand swept up in what he would later realize was a
killing blow to the throat.
A terrified voice pierced
the haze surrounding his mind just soon enough for him to pull the blow.
"Lo siento, lo siento, nada mas queria saber
si estaba bien."
Geoffrey looked into
her eyes and saw the fear he'd been expecting, but not the revulsion. It seemed
impossible. Surely she understood just how abhorrent his actions had nearly
been.
A wave of dizziness
crashed through Geoffrey's body. As he released the poor woman's hand, he
collapsed onto the concrete again.
The fear was still
foremost on the Latina's face as she once again cautiously approached Geoffrey,
but there was also something that looked like concern.
"Esta bien?"
When Geoffrey
responded with nothing more than a blank look, the woman tried again.
"You are okay?"
Geoffrey opened his
mouth to respond and realized his eyes were being drawn to the pleasantly dark
skin of the woman's neck, skin that was stretched tautly over the muscles and
veins to form the most delicate of protective barriers.
Geoffrey's gorge
rose once again as he followed his thoughts to their logical conclusion, and he
weakly waved the woman away. "I'm fine, please leave me alone."
The woman
straightened up, but remained where she was. Suddenly Geoffrey was angry.
Didn't she understand what he could do to her? It was all he could do to
control himself, to ignore the hunger, and she just sat there like she actually
wanted to be killed.
Swatting feebly at
the woman, Geoffrey finally lost his temper. "Go away or I'll kill
you!"
The concerned eyes
that had been staring at Geoffrey widened; he realized he'd been shouting, but
before he could decide whether or not to apologize, the woman turned and ran
away.
The rest of the trip
back to the apartment where he'd first awakened was little more than a blur.
The hunger hadn't left, and Geoffrey sensed that it was somehow vital he get off
of the streets as soon as possible.
After stumbling up
the stairwell and finally arriving at his door, it took Geoffrey three tries to
get his pair of locks open. Unfortunately, the place he'd hoped would serve as
a kind of refuge was already occupied.
Imastious sat
casually on the sofa, dressed as always in black, featureless clothes that
sported a high, tight collar. Once again, Geoffrey wondered why Imastious'
appearance made him think of churches and sermons. He still couldn't place the
resemblance, but it almost felt like Imastious' clothing was the predecessor to
something else that Geoffrey hadn't quite managed to place.
The gaunt face
looking up at Geoffrey was relaxed. It combined with Imastious' bearing to
convey the picture of a man at ease, but the illusion failed for anyone who
looked closely enough at his eyes. The half-closed eyes examining Geoffrey
seemed to be windows to a soul that was completely amoral, utterly willing to
sacrifice anyone or anything in the pursuit of basic self-interest.
Try as he might,
Geoffrey couldn't point to any one reason why Imastious seemed old, ancient
even. Maybe it was the eyes. It seemed impossible for a young person to have
lived long enough to sink to those kinds of levels. That required depraved
experience almost beyond understanding.
Those cold eyes
measured Geoffrey now, taking in both the slight shaking of his body and his
vomit-stained clothes.
"You've not yet
completed the task you were given."
Geoffrey thought
about lying, claiming that he had indeed killed his target, but before he'd
even had a chance to decide one way or another Imastious cut him off.
"Don't bother
denying your failure, or rather, your lack of attempt. I already know that he's
still alive."
For a split second
Geoffrey wondered if Imastious was bluffing, but the emotionless eyes staring
back at him seemed impossibly all-knowing. Instead of making the useless
protest he'd been considering, he simply remained silent.
Imastious shook his
head. "Like it or not, you will learn that I am to be obeyed. You have
nowhere else to go, no one else who can protect you if your true nature is
revealed."
Imastious struck
without warning. Springing to his feet, he grabbed Geoffrey by the throat and
slammed him against the wall, exactly as Geoffrey had done to the mugger a
short time before.
Geoffrey tried to
fight back, lashing out with a largely ineffectual kick, but Imastious' slender
limbs and emaciated frame possessed such incredible strength it was like trying
to fight back against a vise.
Still moving almost
faster than Geoffrey could follow, Imastious grabbed Geoffrey's left wrist,
snapping something closed over it and then spinning the younger man around
violently and doing the same thing to his right wrist. By the time Geoffrey
realized he'd been handcuffed, Imastious had thrown him to the floor and
manacled his feet.
A strange sense of
pressure was building inside Geoffrey's mind, clouding his thoughts, making it
difficult to reason or respond to what was happening. As the pressure grew, it was
as though Geoffrey lost time. One moment he was bound and gagged on the cold
floor, the next thing he knew he was in excruciating pain, his back and arms
seemingly on fire. It seemed now that a knife traced an erratic, bloody path
down his body, starting at his cheek, near his right eye, and then moving in
fits and starts down to his right hand.
When the knife
started working its way around the thumb on Geoffrey's right hand he finally
passed out.
Featured Review
This book starts
with Geoffrey not remembering who or what he is. To start with, I wondered if
Oblivion had paid him a visit but then quickly squelched that idea as Geoffrey
is a vampire, not wolf. From that perspective this book is wonderful. For the
first time we are reading about the wolves' natural enemy, the vampire. But
they are fighting their natural enemy, the werewolf. Things are getting very
interesting. Throw into the mix the fact that Geoffrey, although his memory
muscle is that of an assassin, actually seems to have grown a conscience and a
sense of right and wrong whilst losing his normal memory of the past however
many years.
Melody provides an
interesting story within all the vampires and I can't wait to see if she will
pop up again, however unlikely it may seem at the moment.
Venice was hard to
like at the beginning but as the story went on, my feelings for her changed, in
the same way as Geoffrey's did. I was hoping that she was 'redeemable'. Whether
she was or not or whether she betrayed Geoffrey, I'll leave for you to find out
when you read the book.
This is definitely
darker than the Reflections series
but that in no way detracts from the story. I liked it for that reason and also
as it was a different viewpoint. I love Dean Murray's/Eldon Murphy's books
because they have not yet disappointed, I know I am always in for a good story
and the viewpoint is always superb. Recommended.
About the Author
Eldon Murphy is a pseudonym of Dean Murray, a prolific author who has released
20 titles in the last two years across multiple pen names. Dean has more than
250,000 copies of his work currently in circulation and shows no signs of
slowing down.
Dean started reading seriously in the second grade due to a competition
and has spent most of the subsequent three decades lost in other people's
worlds. After reading several local libraries more or less dry of sci-fi and
fantasy, he started spending more time wandering around worlds of his own
creation to avoid the boredom of the "real" world.
Things worsened, or improved depending on your point of view, when he
first started experimenting with writing while finishing up his accounting
degree. These days Dean has a wonderful wife and two lovely daughters to keep
him rather more grounded, but the idea of bringing others along with him as he
meets interesting new people in universes nobody else has ever seen tends to
drag him back to his computer on a fairly regular basis.
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